People often ask me if my ability to communicate with animals affords me a softer experience when I’m faced with grieving the death (I call it a transition), or perhaps a scary diagnosis, of one of my own. While this seems completely reasonable and understandable to think that would be the case — I can assure you, it is not so at all.
Recently Alfie, my 11 year old Labradoodle, had a bout of pretty intense stomach upset — I will spare you the finer details of a week filled with 3-AM-mad-dashes-must-get-outside-now moments, but if you have dogs, you know what I’m talking about! Suffice it to say, his condition was serious enough to earn him a trip to the vet’s office, which is definitely not his favorite destination.
The exam didn’t reveal anything out of the ordinary that was alarming, and so remaining fairly calm, I talked through possible causes with the vet, and perhaps additional diagnostic tests, believing that in all likelihood he had gotten into something outside that didn’t agree with him. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, and doubtful it would be the last. I was comfortable with the herbs and supplements I was ferreting home and would diligently administer. I’d adjusted his food, and was already home cooking bland meals to help get him through this ordeal.
As we were readying to leave the exam room, my vet casually mentioned that if this didn’t resolve in the next week or so, we may want to consider doing an abdominal ultrasound. That pushed my panic and fear buttons, in 2.8 seconds it seemed.
All the “what ifs” started infiltrating my mind, swirling with the intensity of a level 5 hurricane. As my mind, at this point firmly ensconced in run-away-train-mode, conjured up escalating worst case scenarios, I became acutely aware that these are the very situations my clients come to me with (usually, though, when there has been an actual diagnosis of illness or disease).
Despite everything the animals have explained to me over the years, despite all that I know about staying grounded and present in this moment, I was still swept up in the fear that Alfie was not as healthy as I believed him to be, and if he had a mass or something else going on in his liver, that would mean he might not be here that much longer. Or at the very least, not as long as I expect him to be. It goes without saying that I would want him to be here with me forever.
Once home, he seemed to almost instantly feel better, and Alfie and Charlotte immediately wanted to romp through their beloved fields—chasing bunnies, sniffing the wildflowers, and rolling in all the things I really wish they wouldn’t.
As I watched them, I couldn’t help but be drawn into the present moment —
Alfie wasn’t worried about diagnostic tests, nor was his brow furled in angst about future outcomes. He was firmly planted in the here and now, as are all animals. And it was such a beautiful reminder for me, as I sat with the unwanted and unexpected possibilities, that in this moment—he is experiencing his joy.
Anticipatory grief is what we experience when we fear the future loss/death of our animals (it happens with humans and in other life changing situations as well). We anticipate the grief we will feel in the future, when they are no longer here with us physically, and start experiencing it in the present moment.
We subconsciously believe—and somehow hope —that if we worry about it now, if we agonize over it and analyze it, we might lessen the burden we feel when our animals cross over The Rainbow Bridge. But it doesn’t work that way, unfortunately.
What it does accomplish is robbing us of the time we have with them now — whether it’s days, weeks, months or years.
Through the work I do with animal communication, the animals are always talking about the joy in every moment, and being present to what is available right now. And even though I know this to be true, I was caught off guard. My human heart and deep love for Alfie went down the proverbial rabbit hole, just like so many other humans who love and cherish their animals.
What I am so incredibly grateful for is knowing that there is a way out of that rabbit hole, coming back into my heart and the moment I have right now, and Charlotte and Alfie remind me of that everyday!
Alfie update—his stomach upset has completely resolved. I have added some Chinese herbs and an additional herbal supplement to his repertoire, and he is acting as normal as I could hope for. If something further presents, I will look at doing additional testing, but for now, I am trusting that all is well and enjoying the simple beauty that is found in the everyday moments we can tend to take for granted.
A message from Elizabeth E. Wallace, Animal Communicator:
As an Animal Communicator and Intuitive, I am deeply honored to be able to communicate with your animal on such a profound level. My intent is to provide a conduit for your animal to communicate their feelings, along with any messages they may have for you. My hope is that every communication will allow both you and your animal (whether alive or in Spirit) the opportunity to connect on a deeper level, strengthening the bond between both. Schedule your first call.
I invite you to attend our next Animal Communication Gathering.
These monthly events are for animal lovers; pet guardians; trainers, & rescue organizations who will benefit from deepening relationships with their animals. We cover a focus topic and then, open the discussion and offer support and answers on these important topics.